Finally
by Zesty Bod
Summary: Cuddy learns about Lydia, and she and House finally have to admit their feelings.
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you to everyone for all the responses to "Secret Sauce!" I'm still getting back into the swing of writing, and I think this story will be fairly short: maybe two or three chapters. I guess we'll see how it goes. Please read and review and let me know what you think.**

**FINALLY**

Cuddy was never sure whether she should be happy or worried when the hospital received a high-profile patient. Sometimes it was good for business, and other times, not so much. This was one of those 'not so much' times. The death of President Dibala had raised eyebrows, not just in the city of Princeton, but internationally. Dibala was a guest of the United States government and his health had been put in the hands of Cuddy and her team of competent doctors. Unfortunately for everyone involved, House was not the lead doctor and his former ducklings had been left to figure out the mess, only to let the President die. Ever since, Cuddy's phone had been ringing off the hook and she was in the middle of investigating the case personally.

"Knock, knock," a familiar gruff voice said, bringing Cuddy out of her focus on her work. Her heart leapt a bit when she saw House walking into her office, but she tried not to show it.

Ever since House had returned from Mayfield, he had been different. He was happier, he smiled more, and it didn't seem like he was carrying the burdens of the world on his shoulders. Not to mention how their relationship had changed. Cuddy was still trying to determine if the change was good or not. House bugged her less, which was good but also unnerving, because when House bugged her it was his way of showing affection. But at the same time, when House did see or talk to her, he was more open. They flirted a little more but their banter had decreased. Cuddy missed that in a weird way, but she knew House was working on changing his attitude so she had to take the good with the bad.

"Hi," she smiled and he sat down across from her desk.

"You look busy," he noted, his eyes scanning her paper-covered desk.

"This is what happens you let the President of a country die in your hospital," she sighed and put her pen down. "What's up?"

"I'm bored," House shrugged. "No case, nothing to do. And since I don't have my medical license yet, you can't make me do clinic hours."

Cuddy smiled and nodded. "You're right. So what do you want me to do to cure your little problem?"

"Give me a case. Even if it looks so simple one of my idiot employees could figure it out. I'm going crazy."

"Not literally, I hope," she said, immediately feeling unsure of whether she was safe to tease him about his break with reality. But House smiled.

"Well, you're still clothed. So I'm guessing this is reality."

Cuddy let one side of her mouth turn up into a half-smile and she felt a bit of relief knowing that their joking hadn't been buried along with House's old attitude. She sifted through the files on her desk and pulled out three files. She looked through them briefly and then handed them to House.

"Check those out. I was debating over whether they were weird enough for you."

"Anything to save me from my boredom," he said. He flipped through the files and seemed satisfied that they would hold his interest. He stood up, cane in one hand and files in the others. Cuddy assumed that their interaction was finished so she went back to reading through Dibala's file. She heard the door of her office open, but before it closed behind House, he spoke again.

"You look pretty, by the way."

Cuddy barely had time to look up at him before he left the office, and she couldn't stop the smile from forming on her lips. She might have missed her banter with House, but she was definitely getting used to this more pleasant and complimentary side of him. Her heart sped up replaying his comment in her mind, the same way it had sped up when he told her that she wasn't narcissistic for worrying that he was leaving the hospital because of her. House was actually changing.

For the next several minutes, Cuddy tried to re-focus on her work but she was failing miserably. She kept thinking about House calling her pretty. He _never_ said stuff like that to her. She chewed on her lip and decided she could afford a break to talk about this rare incident with her best girlfriend. And by best girlfriend, she meant Wilson. She took the elevator up to his office and after a few knocks, she poked her head in.

"Busy?" she asked. Wilson looked up at her and smiled, and even though he did look busy, he waved her in.

"Never too busy for you. Sit down."

Cuddy did sit and after she folded her legs, she wrung her hands together as she tried to figure out what exactly she needed advice about. Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?"

"Not…wrong, necessarily," she said. "Just…different."

"Care to elaborate?"

Cuddy bit her lip again and tried not to smile like a giddy teenager. Again, she failed. "House told me I look pretty."

The gravity of such a simple compliment was not lost on Wilson. He knew just as well as Cuddy that normally, when House wanted to compliment Cuddy, he would shroud his message in insults. He might say something like "your breasts look especially perky in that top," or "you look less like a man today." For him to actually tell her she was pretty, no insults attached, was new.

"Wow," he smiled slowly. "And…?"

"And I guess I'm just wondering," Cuddy started, trying to work out in her head what she wanted to say.

"Wondering if it's too soon for you to try to start something with him, considering he's only been back in the real world for a couple of weeks?" Wilson asked, reading her mind perfectly. Cuddy smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"Something like that."

"House is in a good place," Wilson said confidently. "He's happier…nicer."

"I know, but I don't want to take advantage. He's still figuring it all out."

Wilson smiled. "I think you should ask him out."

Cuddy felt her heart leap into her throat at the prospect of doing something as bold as asking House out. She had tried, unsuccessfully, to admit her feelings to him for months before his run-in with Mayfield. House always pushed her away and it had left Cuddy very gun-shy about trying something like that again.

"I don't know," she said, looking down at her manicured hands. "He's definitely sweeter and everything but he's still House on the inside. Maybe I'm blowing this out of proportion. Calling me pretty doesn't mean he wants a relationship." Wilson opened his mouth to respond but Cuddy was already out of her seat and headed out of the door. "Thanks for listening."

She rode the elevator back down to the main floor and she was lost in her thoughts. There were so many variables in her crazy relationship with House. On one hand, he was her closest friend besides Wilson and she didn't want to mess that up. On the other hand, she had loved him for a very long time and she always kind of assumed they would end up together somehow. But she was afraid of being pushed away again. She was even more afraid of not being pushed away because she and House had something special, and if she got with him, Cuddy felt there was a very high chance she would stay with him.

"Dr. Cuddy," Brenda said as her boss was walking by. Cuddy didn't hear her initially, and Brenda called to her twice more before she was snapped out of her thoughts.

"Sorry, Brenda. Do you have a new case for me?"

"No, actually there's a woman here asking for House," Brenda informed.

"Tell her we're sorry but Dr. House will not be seeing patients for a few more weeks. Tell her if she has an emergency, there are plenty of other capable doctors on staff or that she can go to Mercy."

Brenda sighed and nodded. "I did all that. She says she's not here for medical reasons."

Cuddy's face contorted into a confused frown. She put her hand on her hip. "Did he sexually harass or something?"

Brenda bit back a chuckle. "She says she met him at Mayfield." She leaned in close to Cuddy and whispered, "She might be one of his loony tune buddies."

Cuddy nodded slowly and asked Brenda to point the woman out to her. Her eyes fell on an attractive woman, sitting patiently in the waiting room. She certainly didn't _look_ crazy, but Cuddy supposed that you never could tell.

"I'll handle this. Thanks."

Cuddy approached the woman, her best administrative smile in place and her hands outstretched for a shake. "Hello, I'm Dr. Cuddy. I'm the Dean of this hospital. I hear you're looking for Dr. House?"

The woman smiled and stood, shaking Cuddy's extended hand. "Yes, I am."

"Well as Nurse Brenda informed you, House is not seeing any patients at the moment. Can I direct you to another physician?"

"Oh, I don't have a medical problem," the woman said with a small smile. "I just…need to see him."

Cuddy got a weird feeling in her stomach about this woman's "need" to see House, but rather than talk about it in the waiting room, she invited the woman to her office.

"What's your name again?" Cuddy asked, closing the doors to her office so they could have some private time.

"Lydia," she said in a pleasant voice. "I found Greg's address in the phone book but when I went by, one of other tenants informed that he hadn't been there in several weeks."

_Greg._ Hearing Lydia refer to House in such an intimate and familiar way caused a visceral reaction in the pit of Cuddy's stomach. She leaned against the edge of her desk and gripped the protruding wood as she forced a smile.

"I'm sorry but hospital policy prohibits me from giving away any of Dr. House's personal information. If you're not here for a medical reason, I'm not at liberty to help you."

Lydia looked at her hands and then at Cuddy. "Dr. Cuddy, from woman to woman, I'll be honest with you. I need to talk to Greg because we didn't end things very well. I feel guilty and I just need him to know that he wasn't just some random guy to me. It did mean something."

Cuddy's heart fell into her stomach as Lydia spoke, and she began to draw some conclusions that she hoped like hell weren't true. She didn't want to believe that House had slept with some woman he barely knew, not so soon after he had hallucinated a night with her and then asked her to move in with him. Cuddy had taken his proposal as a sign that he did have feelings for her. Even though their passionate night together had only been in his imagination, it had been important enough to him to ask her to live with him. She had allowed herself to think that she meant to him what he meant to her.

But she supposed that she was wrong.

"Are you telling me that you had a romantic relationship with Dr. House?" Cuddy asked lowly, her body nearly shaking.

"Yes," Lydia responded, obviously unaware of how Cuddy felt about House.

"I see." Cuddy wasn't sure whether to scream or cry. It was like she could feel her hopes being shattered, and her immediate emotion was anger. She was upset with House for finding comfort in the arms of another woman, but she even more upset with herself for not expecting it. House was House after all. He liked women and he liked sex, and Cuddy had no right to assume that he would just wait for something to happen between them. They weren't in a relationship.

But still, her heart broke.

She felt so stupid. But she hid it. She moved away from her desk and forced a tight smile.

"As I stated earlier, I'm sorry that I can't be of some assistance. Dr. House usually comes into work at about ten. Maybe you can catch him in the parking lot and you can discuss your personal matters there."

Cuddy turned her back on Lydia and went behind her desk, not caring whether the woman found her rude or not. She felt like having a breakdown right there in her office.

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Cuddy," the woman said pleasantly. "I'm sorry for having bothered you."

Cuddy barely nodded and as soon as the door closed, she covered her face with her hands and shook her head. She had stupidly thought that once House got better, they could finally work on a relationship together. She had thought that while he was in Mayfield, he had been thinking of her like she had been thinking of him. The thought of someone else being there for him, holding him, kissing him, making love to him…

Hot, angry tears rose to Cuddy's eyes and she wiped them away before clearing her throat and turning her attention to her computer. She felt so betrayed, but she knew she had no real claim on House. Her feelings for him were obviously not reciprocated, and the sooner she moved on from him, the better. It had been twenty years coming, and she finally needed to end her schoolgirl crush on him before he broke her completely.

She looked through her emails and saw a new one from Lucas. They'd had a few good dates and she liked him, but at the time, she was still hung up on House. She kept in contact with Lucas, and now seemed like as good a time as any to move from friendship to romance. After all, her mother had always told her that nothing eased the sting of heartbreak faster than a new love.

…

House whistled as he walked off the elevator and headed to his office. One of those files he'd collected from Cuddy had actually turned up something worthwhile, and he and the ducklings were currently gathering personal information and running tests.

"Hey," Wilson called, as he stepped out of his office.

"Hey back," House called, stopping short of the team conference room.

"I heard through the grapevine that you called Cuddy pretty," he said with a smug grin. House smiled a bit and tapped his cane on the ground a few times.

"She must have come running to you in total shock that I actually said something nice."

"I'd say her visit was more out of pleasant surprise than shock," Wilson said, crossing his arms. "Are you planning to ask her out any time soon, or are you waiting until she's 50 and you're 60?"

"I'm waiting," House started, using his annoyed voice even though he wasn't, "for you to realize that Cuddy and I will never work out."

"Well that's what tends to happen when you sabotage every change at a viable relationship with the one woman in the world who could love you. I thought you wanted to be happy and change your outlook."

"I do, and I'm trying."

"Then stop being such a punk and ask her out."

House groaned and pushed the conference door open. Wilson caught his arm before House could completely disappear.

"You know," Wilson started. "The hardest thing in the world is telling the woman that you love, that you _like_ her."

House didn't respond or even acknowledge the statement as he slid his arm out of Wilson's grip and walked into the conference room. He sat down at the table and tried to think of his patient, but all he could hear was Wilson's statement. How true it was. Nothing frightened House like the thought of finally admitting to Lisa Cuddy that he had a crush on her, much less the depth of his feelings. He wanted to tell her how he felt because the truth was that he had never been happier than when he thought the two of them had spent the night together. He woke up happy, went to work happy, and had generally remained happy until he realized he had hallucinated the whole thing.

_It was the best of times…it was the worst of times._ Cuddy had been the source of his ultimate happiness and the source of his worst realization.

House was tired of fearing the worst, though. Wilson was right. It was time to stop the games and make his move. So he took the elevator downstairs, gathering his courage all along the way. He let himself into Cuddy's office, without knocking, but he had no idea what he would say. So he started with something simple.

"One of those cases you gave me is actually kind of interesting," he said, hoping to somehow work his way up to asking her out on a date. House had thought she would respond by asking him what was going on or by smiling at him like she'd done earlier, but she didn't even look away from her computer. House frowned and cocked his head to the side when he saw her clinched jaw and the determined look on her face.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No."

As if her face hadn't been enough to tell him something was, in fact, wrong, her short answer confirmed it.

"Did something happen with a patient? Long board meeting…?"

"No."

House quickly realized that Cuddy's shortness was because of him, not some general work-related annoyance. He thought about all the things that had happened between his first visit to her office and this one that could have turned her so cold to him, but he was coming up empty. He hadn't done anything wrong or unethical in that short amount of time. He hadn't sexually harassed anyone or even insulted a patient. What could she possibly be mad about?

"Oookay, well something is obviously different from our last encounter a couple of hours ago."

Cuddy said nothing, and House walked closer to her desk and stood behind her computer to force himself into her line of vision.

"You won't even look at me," he noted.

Cuddy pulled her eyes away from the computer and stared at him in that hard glare that always made him feel small. Her makeup wasn't as perfect as it had been earlier and her eyes had just the slightest red tint to them. House knew she had been crying.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing. You said I wouldn't look at you, I looked at you. Do you need something or are you just here to waste my time?"

Her voice had none of the joking tone from earlier, and House could tell that she was really pissed at him. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why. With the way she was acting, though, he didn't care to find out. He felt stupid for even having considered asking her out. Clearly, he'd misread the signals.

He left without another word, confused and upset. The day had started so well, and now he was left wondering what he did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Again, thank you for all the reviews. I think this will last one more chapter...maybe two. The more reviews, the sooner I'll update!**

Chapter 2

House hadn't actually felt depressed since leaving Mayfield. He had worked diligently on changing his attitude and without his Vicodin habit to wear him down, turning over a new leaf wasn't as difficult as he had expected. It wasn't easy, either, but he was coping. Since his return, he had moved in with Wilson, and that was definitely helping. His relationship with Cuddy was changing and he felt that it was a good change...at least until today. House had no idea what he could have done to make her so upset with him. Telling her she looked pretty had seemed like a perfect way to be sweet to her, and it must have worked because she ran and told Wilson. So what had changed?

After obsessing over it for the rest of the work day, House found himself back at his old apartment. He'd only visited once since his return, and it was a visit he wanted to erase. He'd gone straight to a bottle of Vicodin but somehow he had talked himself out of taking the pills. Now he was back, and he looked around the place and felt an odd mixture of comfort and concern. It felt good to be back in his old apartment, but at the same time, it reminded him of everything he was trying to forget.

He placed his cane against the back of his couch and walked to his guitar. He had definitely missed his instruments. He ran his hands over the smooth surface of his guitar and then put the strap on, happy to feel his prized possession back in his grip. His mind still on what could have gone wrong with Cuddy, House began to pick out a tune that matched his somber mood. He quickly realized that he didn't miss the feeling of sadness. He liked his new attitude and he liked being happy, and he regretted spending so much of his life as a miserable bastard. But for now, he figured he could let himself feel a little down. Despite constantly annoying Cuddy and pushing the limits of their relationship, he never actually liked for her to be upset with him. When Cuddy was angry or sad, the vibrations in House's little universe were askew and he couldn't quite concentrate on anything else.

He sat down on the couch, still strumming out notes as they came to him. House had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, but he stopped playing when he heard a key in the front door. He craned his neck around to see a worried looking Wilson.

"I figured you were here when you didn't come home or answer your phone."

House turned back around and shrugged. "Sorry for not calling, honey. Next time I'll leave you a little note in your lunch."

Wilson rolled his eyes and sighed, inspecting the place and coming around the couch and glaring at House. "Did you take Vicodin?"

"Nope," he said simply.

"Then why are you here? I thought you and Dr. Nolan agreed there was too much temptation for you here."

"I wanted to play my guitar. Is that a crime?"

Wilson narrowed his eyes at his best friend before sitting on the couch and rubbing his head. "I guess not."

They didn't speak for several minutes as House continued to play. His fingers began to strum out an old B.B. King Blues song, and Wilson looked at House in confusion.

"Got the blues?"

"Cuddy's upset with me," House said, totally forthcoming. "I don't know why."

"What'd you do to her?"

"Nothing that I can think of." He stopped playing and sighed, resting his head on the back of the couch. "I went down to her office to ask her out, like you said. But she wouldn't talk to me or even look at me. Looked like she had been crying."

Wilson's eyebrows raised in that surprised look he always got when he heard some unexpected news. "Wow. Crying? You must have done something really bad."

"But I don't know what!" House said, growing more frustrated by the second. "I've been on my best behavior since I got back. I didn't do anything."

"Did you _ask_ her what was wrong?"

House groaned and looked at Wilson like he wanted to slap him. "Did you _miss_ the part where I said she wouldn't talk to me?"

"It's not like Cuddy to get upset and cry over nothing."

"Yeah, well…"

They grew quiet again, both thinking about the situation at hand.

"Maybe you should go talk to her," Wilson offered. "She might be more willing to open up now that she's had some time to get over whatever her problem is."

"I think I'll pass," House said, starting up with his song again.

"Don't do this, House," his friend begged in a sigh. "Every time things get a little complicated with Cuddy, you shut yourself down. It's always one step forward and ten steps back with you two. God, you're annoying. I just want to lock you two up in a window-less room until you've screwed each others' brains out and finally ended this twenty-year collection of sexual tension."

House looked at Wilson, whose face had grown red with frustrated annoyance, and he smiled.

"Gee, you haven't given this much thought," he said sarcastically.

"Go see her, House. Seriously. Figure this out tonight. Do whatever you have to do to just move on with each other, once and for all."

House thought quietly for a few long minutes before getting up, putting his guitar away, and walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Wilson asked hopefully.

"To get my woman," House replied with a dry tone. He'd meant it to sound sarcastic but some sincerity accidentally came through. He did want Cuddy. He was tired of the constant, never-ending back-and-forth. He was scared…actually he was terrified, of what might happen. It would hurt to be rejected, but it would hurt even more to give it a go and watch it fail. But for once in his life, he was willing to give it a try.

House put his helmet on and mounted his motorcycle, the one facet of his old lifestyle that Dr. Nolan had let him keep. It was strange that the bike stayed when Nolan had called it "one of the last vestiges of House's thrill-seeking behavior." He rode the familiar streets to Cuddy's, and when he pulled up to her house, he felt a flutter of nervousness. He didn't know what he would say or how she would react to whatever it was that tumbled out of his mouth. He dismounted the bike and was grabbing his cane, when he noticed the car in Cuddy's driveway. He recognized it, but he wasn't sure from where.

Immediately, his possessive jealousy kicked in and he nearly stormed to the front door. He banged on it a few times with his cane, nervousness and uncertainty causing an uncomfortable storm in his stomach. House heard Cuddy's voice and when she opened the door, the smile that had been on her face disappeared. House felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach. She was really mad at him.

"What do you want?" she asked. But it wasn't in that same I'm-annoyed-with-you-but-not-really tone. Her question was flat, without any joking intonation to it at all.

"You have company?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yes."

House looked down at the bottom of his cane and tapped it a few times.

"Male company?"

"Yes."

House was becoming furious, not only at Cuddy's obvious disdain for him but at the fact that she was entertaining some asshole this late. Men didn't stay over at women's houses at all hours of the night unless something sexual was going on. House gripped his cane tightly and stared at his boss, unsure of what to say.

"Who is it?" was the first question that came to his mind.

"That's none of your business. Is there something work-related that you need from me?"

She was so cold and detached. He could feel his body growing rigid with anger.

"Yeah, there's something I need from you," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "I need to know why you're being such an evil bitch."

Cuddy didn't flinch, and if House hadn't been there and felt the words leave his mouth, he would have sworn she hadn't even heard him.

"Good night." She started to close the door and he panicked. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wanted things to be better between them, not worse. He stuck his cane in the doorway before she shut him off completely and he started talking before he could censor himself.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked, hating the desperation he heard in his voice. "Just tell me. I'm sorry for whatever I did."

Cuddy looked at him and for one very brief moment, her eyes softened and House could tell that she wanted to forgive him. But the look was gone just as quickly as it appeared. She pushed his cane out of the way and shut the door. House stood there, speechless and confused. He was angry beyond belief, and he wanted to bang on her door or ring the doorbell all night to annoy her.

But House had promised himself that he would no longer resort to such infantile tactics. Cuddy didn't want him, for whatever reason. So he backed away from her front door before finally retreating to his bike. He rode back to his own apartment and once he got off his motorcycle, he realized how much his leg was hurting. For the past several weeks, the pain had been a 3 or 4 on the scale of 10. But right now, the throbbing was registering at an 8. He knew that the pain was directly related to his emotional state but that didn't stop his craving for Vicodin. He rubbed his aching leg and hurriedly let himself into his apartment.

House went straight for his closet and dug around in his secret spots. He got desperate when all his spots came up empty. He scrambled through shoe boxes and floor boards, but he couldn't find anything and his leg howled in pain. In complete frustration, House swung his cane at the wall and nearly broke it in half.

"Fuck!" he screamed. He hadn't felt this out of control in a long time, and he didn't like it. A door down the hallway opened and Wilson appeared, his messy hair and tired eyes signs that he had been asleep.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked.

House took a deep breath and willed the pain to stop, but it didn't. "My leg hurts," he said lowly. "Where is my Vicodin?"

"I came here and threw it all out after I thought you were back on it," he answered, obviously concerned. He tentatively patted House on the back. "I take it didn't go well with Cuddy."

House laughed sarcastically and closed his eyes, roughly rubbing his leg. "No it went fine. She didn't even let me in because she's in there _fucking_ some other guy." He couldn't even hide his heartache in his statement, and he didn't feel the need to pretend like he wasn't crushed. Wilson knew the deal.

"What?" Wilson asked lowly, like he didn't believe that. "What…what happened?"

House ran a hand over his face and tried to breathe slowly. Anger and pain never made for a good combination. "I showed up, ready to talk," he said lowly. "There was a car in her driveway. I asked her if she had a guy over there, and she said yes."

"And…?"

"And I told her I wanted to know why she was being such a bitch to me," he said harshly.

"Gee, that was smart," Wilson said sarcastically.

"I didn't do anything to her," House said, rubbing his leg harder. "She just changed like that," he said, snapping his fingers. "And whatever I did must have been pretty bad for her to be with somebody else."

"You don't know that they were having sex. Or that they are going to have sex."

"It's eleven at night," House snapped, staring at Wilson like he was an idiot. "I know."

Wilson patted House's back and picked up his cane. "Here. I guess we're staying here tonight."

House didn't put up a fight as he limped back to his old bedroom. He didn't bother to change clothes or even take off his shoes as he fell onto the bed. He already knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep.

…

The ride to work was quiet the next morning. House still had some clothes at his old place, so he took his time and showered and changed while Wilson went back to his apartment to get ready. House had to move gingerly because his leg was still shouting in protest. He felt miserable, physically and emotionally. He hated to think that Cuddy's attitude towards him could have such an impact on his well-being but clearly it did. He had just barely tugged his Marvin Gaye T-shirt over his head when he heard Wilson beeping outside. House really wanted to ride his bike but his leg wouldn't allow it.

He and Wilson said nothing on the way to the hospital. House could feel his friend's worried stares whenever they came to a red light, but he chose to ignore them. He wasn't in the mood to talk.

"I'll let you out here," Wilson said, pulling up to the entrance. His parking spot was kind of a far walk and putting House's leg through more stress didn't seem like a good idea.

"Thanks," he grumbled. He got out of the car and hobbled painfully towards the entrance.

"Greg," a voice called to him. It sounded familiar but House couldn't place it immediately. When he turned around, he was mildly shocked to see Lydia standing here.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His body went stiff as she got closer to him and gestured for them to sit on the bench where they could talk. House hesitated but then joined her.

"I'm back in town for a week and I just had to see you," Lydia said, smiling softly at him. House looked down at the ground and shook his head.

"You used me," he said simply.

"I didn't," she said, grabbing onto his arm. "I mean, I know we shouldn't have done what we did, considering my marriage and all…"

"And kid. Don't forget kid," House threw in there. "You never had any intention of having something serious with me. I was just a break from your real life."

"I'm sorry things worked out the way they did," Lydia said in a sincere voice. "I still think about you. Every day."

House looked at the woman he had shared a short relationship with while he was rehabilitating, and although some part of him missed the comfort she had provided, he couldn't say that he missed her. He didn't still think about her and he didn't long to have her back. It was a fling, and it had been fun while it lasted. But it was over. So he stood and nodded.

"Thanks for letting me know."

"That's it?" she asked, standing up with him.

"What do you want me to say, Lydia? You have a family and you live in a different state. This would never work out between us."

Lydia opened her mouth to object but House didn't hear it. His ears were filled with the sounds of all too familiar high heels striking the ground with the determination of a woman in charge. Before he saw her, he knew it was Cuddy. And his blood boiled thinking at how late she was coming into work. She must have had a late night with her male suitor. The thought of her getting naked and sweaty with anybody but him nearly sent him into a blind rage.

He turned his head to see his boss walking towards the entrance. Cuddy looked at him for only a millisecond, but when she did, House's heart stopped. Her glare was brief, but it was enough for him to see it in her eyes.

She knew.

Cuddy knew about him and Lydia. That almost non-existent connection between his eyes and hers had displayed so many emotions: hurt, anger, betrayal. To a normal person, Cuddy looked like she always did, but House knew better. He knew her better than anyone, and suddenly, her coldness towards him added up.

"How did you know when I would be here?" House asked, interrupting whatever Lydia was saying. "How did you know to wait for me at this time?"

"Oh…uh, she told me," Lydia said, pointing to the door that Cuddy had just entered.

"Cuddy?" House asked, his heart beating harder and louder with the confirmation that Cuddy and Lydia had indeed crossed paths.

"Yes."

Everything felt like it had exploded in House at once. His confusion had melted into guilt, even though he was telling himself that he had nothing to feel guilty about. Cuddy was not his girlfriend, and she had no claim to him. Still, he knew she wouldn't like his sleeping with another woman and that was why he had kept that little secret to himself. He hadn't even told Wilson.

"It was good seeing you again," he said to Lydia, already walking away. "But don't look for me anymore."

House hobbled into the front door and he spotted Cuddy's well-sculpted behind in one of those skirt suits that drove him crazy. He had no idea what to say or how to even start this conversation, but he walked up next to her.

"Cuddy…"

She looked at him and if he hadn't been sure about the pained look in her eyes before, he was sure now.

"I'm busy." Her statement left no room for him to continue talking, and she walked away before he even had the chance to try. She slammed her door, letting everyone with a 100-foot radius know that she was not in the mood today.

House sighed and tapped his cane a few times. How in the hell was he going to fix this?


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, I've had this ready for all day but the document manager wasn't working. :( Anyway, thank you so much for the great reviews! Especially the ones that complimented my writing. I'm a lawyer/aspiring writer, so that definitely made me smile. Last chapter, so let me know what you think. I hope to post a new story soon. Reviews will make me post faster! :)**

Chapter 3

Cuddy slammed the door much harder than she had intended, but her barely-controlled fury got the best of her. She covered her face with her shaking hands and tried to stop all the thoughts swimming in her head. She never liked for people to get into her personal business, but she was sure that the rumor mill was already spinning wildly after her little tantrum. Whatever. At least that way, nobody would bother her for a while.

She took a deep breath and reached down to take off her heels. She didn't feel the need to wear them in the comfort of her own office. She tossed them under her desk as she sat down in her big chair and wiggled the mouse for her computer to wake up. Cuddy desperately wanted to focus on work because she had a lot to do. President Dibala's file had not been cleared yet and there were some inconsistencies between the written report and the accounts of Drs. Foreman and Chase. Knowing them, and knowing that they had worked for House going on six years, Cuddy was scared to know what they might have done.

With all the media attention and the board breathing down her neck about Dibala's death, Cuddy knew that should have been at the forefront of her mind. But it wasn't. Seeing House with _her_ was the one thing her mind kept racing to. Cuddy grabbed the mouse tighter at the thought and it wasn't until she realized that she was clenching her teeth that she took another deep breath. This was a moment for some of her Yoga mind-body cleansing. Cuddy sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and forced herself to breath evenly. She tried to see House and Lydia objectively and reasonably because the truth was, House was not hers. He never had been.

But Cuddy still felt like he had cheated on her. She knew that House was free to do whatever he wanted and sleep with whatever woman would put up with him. But that didn't stop her heart from hurting, and it didn't stop her from feeling utterly…devastated.

A few soft knocks on her front door took Cuddy away from her thoughts and she opened her eyes to see Wilson poking his head in. He looked worried, like he always did when she wasn't in a good mood, and he checked his watch.

"Hey. We have a meeting, right?"

Cuddy was momentarily confused because of all the things happening in her life at the moment, the quarterly report meeting from the oncology department was not on her radar.

"Yeah," she nodded, quickly trying to shake out of her blue mood. Wilson walked in and closed the door gently before turning around and giving her one of those half-smiles, half-frowns.

"The nurses' station is abuzz with the news that you were down here slamming doors."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and came from behind her chair, not bothering to put her shoes back on. "I slammed _one_ door, and it was mine. I swear those nurses act like they have nothing to do but gossip about me."

She sat on the couch and Wilson followed, handing her a few sheets of papers with numbers on them.

"House said you were upset with him yesterday," he started tentatively. "And now you're slamming a door. Are those two things related?"

"I don't want to talk about House," Cuddy said firmly, hoping to end the matter. Wilson looked like he was going to keep asking questions, but she placed a hand on his knee and gave him her most forced smile. "I'll tell you about it later. Right now, we're in business mode."

Wilson nodded and Cuddy was so happy that he could switch between friendship and work so easily. Unlike House, who didn't seem to understand the concept of separating one's personal life from one's professional life, Wilson usually knew where to draw the line.

They were about fifteen minutes into their discussion of the oncology department's spending habits, and Cuddy was slowly relaxing and forgetting about House. That is, until the door swung up and he-who-shall-not-be-named waltzed in and glared at her. Cuddy groaned, and held her hand up.

"Wilson and I are in a meeting," she said, her voice tight. "Whatever you have to say will have to wait."

Of course, House didn't listen. He pointed his cane about three inches from Cuddy's face and continued to stare at her.

"I know why you're angry with me."

Cuddy's jaw tightened and she had to count to ten so she didn't explode off the couch and kick him in his bad leg.

"House," she warned, in that voice that could make grown men pee on themselves. "Not. Now."

"You know about Lydia," he continued, moving his cane away from her. "And you're very angry. I find that interesting."

"What part of 'I'm in a meeting and I don't want to be bothered with your stupid ass games' don't you understand?"

House just looked at her, and she looked right back. The tension was palpable, and Wilson thought he might suffocate in it.

"What's…going on?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"I slept with someone while I was at Mayfield," House said, never taking his eyes off Cuddy. "And now Lisa's feelings are hurt."

They were too busy staring at one another to notice Wilson's expression of utter shock, which then changed into one of genuine fear for House's life.

"Get out," she said dryly, standing up to escort him to the door.

"I didn't cheat on you," he continued.

"You're right. You didn't," Cuddy said with a simple nod of her head. "Now if you'll please leave…"

"But you're acting like I did," House said. "The last time I checked, we weren't in a relationship."

"Whose fault is that?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"It's nobody's fault!" he said, their noses nearly touching now. "I never said I wanted a relationship with you!"

"Did you or didn't you ask me to move in with you?" she asked lowly.

Wilson had secretly crept off the couch and closed the front door. House and Cuddy were oblivious to the fact that they had begun to yell at each other and people were looking in to see what was happening.

"Nothing to see here," Wilson smiled, hoping that people would think that was run-of-the-mill House and Cuddy fighting.

"I was hallucinating!" House screamed at her.

"You could have hallucinated a lot of things, House," Cuddy said seriously. "You were seeing Amber for weeks. Why didn't you fuck her in that messed up head of yours?" Her hands slipped down to her hips and she gripped them tightly. "You're always talking about Cameron and Thirteen. If you really wanted to see some hot lesbian action, you could have hallucinated them. But that's not what you did."

House gripped his cane so tightly that his hand started to hurt, and Cuddy scooted in impossibly closer to him.

"You made up a night where I took care of you," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper, but her anger was evident from the fire in her light eyes. "You came up with this whole story about us spending the night together and then making love to me."

Cuddy backed away and smirked. "So no, maybe you didn't _say_ you wanted a relationship in so many words. But it sure as hell seemed like that's where this was headed."

Wilson watched them stare at each other and he wasn't sure if they were going to turn violent or rip off each other's clothes and just do it right there in her office.

"You don't have the right to be mad at me," House said, staring at her like he might whack her with his cane.

"You're right again, House. You're not mine and therefore it shouldn't hurt me that you slept with another woman. But it does." Cuddy threw up her hands up like she was done with it and she sat back down on the couch. She picked up the paperwork she had been going over with Wilson, and after a few moments of silence, it seemed like the conversation had ended. House turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.

"Just like it shouldn't hurt you that I slept with Lucas last night." Cuddy looked up to see Wilson's jaw nearly on the floor. House had stopped dead in his tracks, his back to her so she couldn't see his expression. "But it does. Funny how that works, isn't it?"

She returned to highlighting numbers as if nothing had happened, and House left the office. Wilson stood there, unsure of whether to comfort Cuddy or run after House. Knowing him and his tolerance for pain, House might have just run off somewhere to down a whole bottle of Vicodin at once.

"Cuddy," Wilson said softly. "Did you…really…?"

Cuddy looked at him and although she was trying to be tough, he could tell that she was sad. "Business mode, remember?"

…

After a very tense and strained meeting with Cuddy, Wilson really wanted to search for House. He knew that his friend had probably gone off and done something stupid after Cuddy had dropped that bomb on him. The front-runners were: (a) he had killed Lucas, (b) he had killed himself by overdosing on Vicodin, and (c) he had gotten so drunk that he was passed out in a street somewhere. Wilson left the hospital after seeing a few patients and by the time he made it to his car, the clouds had covered the skies and rain was pouring down by the buckets. The weather definitely matched the mood of the situation.

Wilson wasn't sure where House had gone and House wasn't answering his phone, so he started at a few bars near the hospital. After that, he went back to his own apartment, just to make sure House hadn't returned. He hadn't. He drove to House's apartment next, and he was both relieved and unnerved to find them there, on the couch. He was relieved because House wasn't at some crappy bar or laid out on the street like he feared. But he was concerned because maybe House had found some ultra-hidden stash of Vicodin.

"House," he said quietly.

House said nothing, and Wilson walked around the couch to see a half-empty bottle of gin, a shot glass, and House's red eyes. He wasn't sure whether they were from crying or from drunkenness. Judging from the way House kind of swayed while sitting and the amount of liquor he'd gulped, he guessed it was from drunkenness.

"How'd you get here?" he asked.

"Cab," House said gruffly.

Wilson sighed and sat on the edge of the table. "Did you take Vicodin?" he asked, always his preliminary question.

"If Vicodin comes in brown liquid form, then yes," House said sarcastically. "I took a shitload."

"How drunk are you?" Wilson asked, in full mother hen mode.

"Hmm," House said, rolling his eyes upward to give the image that he was thinking really hard. "Drunk enough to start a fight with a guy twice my size. Not so drunk that I'm completely incoherent."

"So…do you want to talk about Cuddy?"

"Nope. She can go to hell for all I care."

"Why did you sleep with some other woman?" Wilson asked, the question having been burned on his tongue since he heard about it. "You were all gung-ho about making it work with Cuddy."

"Right. Because I was in such a good mental state at that point," he said dryly.

"House, it doesn't matter whether you hallucinated the night with her or not. The point is that you were happy when you _thought_ you did. You love her. I know it, you know it. Hell, I think everybody knows it except Cuddy! Because you always do this stupid crap and mess everything up."

"I didn't cheat on her," House said weakly. Wilson shook his head.

"Not technically, no. If that makes you feel better about yourself, then cling to that. But I promise you one thing, hanging on to that fact that you didn't _technically_ cheat on her won't get you anywhere."

House sighed and rested his head on the back of the couch. He stared up at the ceiling and shrugged.

"Even if she could forgive me, I don't think I can forgive her," he admitted. "She was with somebody else."

"You're familiar with the concept of hypocrisy, right?"

House grunted and rolled his head to look at Wilson. "Would you forgive her?"

"I don't think you're in a position to do the forgiving. You screwed it up, she tried to move on, and now you're miserable because you won't just grow up and stake a claim on her like you should have done years ago." Wilson stood up and sighed, growing tired of this constant nonsense between the two of them. They were going to be eighty years old, still pulling each other's hair.

"You want my advice? And I swear to God, this is the last time I'm talking to you about Cuddy. I mean it. I can't take this anymore."

House just sat quietly and Wilson pointed at him. "Sober up. Go to her house. Be a man. And tell her how you feel. If she doesn't want you or if she can't forgive you after you make a genuine show of your emotions, then that's it. It'll never work and you should stop trying."

Wilson gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you later."

…

Cuddy felt like it had been the longest day of her life. Between her confrontation with House, the ongoing investigation at the hospital, and putting Rachel to sleep, she was exhausted. It was ten o'clock before she finally got out of her work clothes and had a chance to just sit down and relax. She curled up under a blanket on the couch and tried to think of nothing. The rain outside was tap-dancing all over her house, calming her in the process. She had almost drifted to sleep, when her doorbell rang. She got up, wondering who could be there. She hadn't called Lucas again and she didn't know who would brave the rain to see her this late.

When she opened the door, she was surprised to see House…mostly because he never rang the doorbell. He whacked the door with his cane, broke in with his stolen key, or crawled into her bedroom window. Cuddy didn't know if House was crazier for his antics, or if she was crazier for putting up with them for so long.

"What?" she asked softly. She didn't want to fight again and she didn't want to deal with him.

"I want to talk to you," House said, the rain pounding on his body. He was standing there, without an umbrella or any kind of raingear. Cuddy was sure he was trying to garner sympathy.

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"Well then I just want to come in."

"No." She started to close the door, but he stuck his cane in the way.

"Oh come on, Cuddy. I know your Jew guilt won't let you leave a cripple out in the rain."

Cuddy stared at him for a moment before sighing and backing out of the way. House smirked and started to walk in, but she pointed at his feet.

"Shoes off."

She walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, and she heard the wet rubber tip of House's cane as it squeaked across the ground.

"Where am I supposed to sit?" he asked, his body dripping with water. Cuddy got under her blanket again and shrugged.

"You can stand."

House scoffed and shook his head. "Wow, me sleeping with another woman really does bring out the bitch in you, doesn't it?"

"If you're here to insult me, you can leave."

He sighed and covered his face, collecting his thoughts. He was slipping into his old self and that wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Sorry. That's not what I wanted to say."

"You said you just wanted to come in. I already told you we don't have anything to talk about."

"Don't do this," he said with a shake of his head.

"Don't do what, House?" Cuddy challenged. "Finally act like I have a brain in my head? I'm sick of this. I'm sick of playing the fool for you. I'm over it and I'm over you."

"Obviously you're not," he said calmly. Cuddy closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Did you even think of me while you were gone?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. I thought about you all the time."

"Then why did you do it?" Her voice was soft and she hated herself for sounding like she was going to cry. She refused to open her eyes and let any tears fall out, and she could hear House shuffle a little where he stood.

"I liked her," he admitted. "I was surrounded by a bunch of people who didn't know me or know what I was really like. I could just be different and I didn't have to impress her or anything."

Cuddy looked at him and even though tears spilled down her cheeks, she didn't wipe them.

"You don't have to impress me," she said, her tone full of hurt and sadness. House looked away from her and tapped his cane. He always did that when he didn't know quite what to say.

"I feel like I do."

Cuddy shook her head and tossed the blanket off, standing up but not walking towards him. "I have _never_ said that you have to impress me. I've always taken you for what you are and I cared about you anyway! Even when you treated me like shit!" She was crying and screaming at the same time, and House still wouldn't look at her. "Even when you cut me down in front of my employees! I was always behind you. You never had to be anybody but yourself for me to care about you."

House stared at the ground for a long minute and Cuddy wiped her face. "I can't do this anymore, House. I've waited for you for so long. Even I have limits."

She gathered her blanket and walked out of the room, not sure whether she was relieved or depressed. She went to her bedroom and fell onto the bed, covering her body and face with the blanket. All was quiet for a while, but Cuddy knew that he was still in the house. A little more time passed before she heard him walking towards her bedroom. She didn't move from underneath her hiding place, even when he walked inside. She heard him shuffle to the rocking chair across from her bed, and he sat down.

"I'm scared," he said in a gruff voice, like maybe he had gotten choked up. Cuddy's ears tuned into him but she didn't move. "I know it's stupid," he said slowly and softly. "I'm 50 years old and given my medical history, I _might_ have 20 years left. I shouldn't be scared of…this."

Cuddy slowly slid the blanket off her face and positioned herself so they could look at each other. "What's 'this'?"

"You and me," he told her, surprisingly not breaking the eye contact. "But we've been playing around and straddling that fence for so long. When it seemed like maybe we were finally going to…" he shrugged. "You know, be together or whatever, I got scared."

"Why?" she asked softly.

House looked at the ceiling and rocked back and forth for a few minutes before answering.

"Because it's you."

Cuddy sat up on her elbows and then rested her back against the pillows. "What does that mean, House? Because it's me."

House shrugged and he pressed his lips together.

"You've come this far," she told him. "You've said this much. We can't go back now. So you might as well tell me."

House opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. He did this several times, but Cuddy waited. He was obviously terrified to be this intimate and bare his soul. But they had come to a crossroads. They could either go forward or go backward. There was no in between.

"I've loved you for a long time," he said after a very long period of silence. Cuddy's heart thumped in her chest at hearing those words come from him. "Probably since I first saw you."

A fresh batch of tears started to form in her eyes but this time they were of the happy kind. She was sure that House would never again tell her anything like this, so she waited and listened.

"Even when I was with Stacy," he continued, still looking at the ceiling. "Even after my leg."

House rolled his eyes down and looked at Cuddy, whose eyes were drained of anger and now filled with affection. "I know I hurt you. And I'm sorry. I can't explain why I did it except that…once you and I go there together, that's it. You would be mine."

His words weren't the most eloquent or romantic ones that Cuddy had ever heard, but coming from him, they meant the world to her. House was telling her, in his own way or course, that once they finally made that step together, there wouldn't be any turning back. Cuddy had no illusions that she would ever marry House or that he would ever be voted Dad of the Year. If they were together, they would likely still keep separate residences so that when they got on each other's nerves, House could run away to his man cave and Cuddy could keep her sanity. They would still fight and argue daily, especially at work. They would probably have one of the most dysfunctional relationships two people could have, but it would work for them.

"So…are you ready for that?" he asked.

It wasn't a marriage proposal, but coming from House, it might as well have been. Cuddy looked into his uncertain eyes and she slowly nodded her head.

"Yes." She couldn't help but smile a little bit and House looked relieved. "Are you?"

"I am now," he nodded.

Cuddy got off the bed and walked over to him, and after House stood up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes as he hugged her closely. She didn't care that his clothes were drenched. House rested his head on her shoulder and hugged her so tightly that it seemed like he thought she might try to run. She rested her forehead against his and stared into his eyes, and they both knew they were officially off the market. Probably forever.

"So," he said. "Can we have sex now?"

Cuddy smiled and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Not tonight," she told him. "I want us to catch up on the sex we could have been having, but tonight, I just want to be close to you."

House nodded like he agreed, and Cuddy smiled. It was about time.

…

Wilson stepped onto the elevator the next morning and right before it closed, a familiar cane jutted inside to keep the doors open. House stepped in and Wilson could tell that he was happy. He had a little spring in his step and a smile threatening to cover his lips.

"So…you didn't come home last night," Wilson said, not wanting to get too happy before he confirmed his hypothesis. "I take it things went well with Cuddy?"

House's smile broadened and he gave his friend one simple nod. Wilson grinned, feeling as though he had just earned his matchmaker badge. He patted House on the back and said the one word that was probably on everybody's mind.

"Finally."


End file.
